Desire
by Slytherin Keeper
Summary: Cute, funny, not too sexual, R for language. Ron/ Harry. Read and review, you'll love it, I swear!


Ron poked with boredom at his Divination work, staring blankly at the mess of calculations that lay before him. His freckled features curled in befuddlement. He didn't know what any of it meant. He sighed.  
  
"Back to the old way," and he slowly began to concoct the most horrifying, tragic life he could ever have lived.  
  
Well, to his peers, at least. The most tragic life he could live was a life without Harry.  
  
But, the last thing he would put is "My best friend will die of constipation." Everyone knew Harry and Ron as the best of friends, even Professor Trelawney, who would continue to torment Harry by gaping at him all teary-eyed and predict his death.  
  
Ron's gaze moved to Harry's bed. Empty; he was at Quidditch practice, which for some reason was joint with Ravenclaw, making Ron jealous as Harry was probably flirting with Cho.  
  
Harry had his first girlfriend the beginning of 5th year, a Hufflepuff fourth year named Matilda. Harry promptly decided that this was the ideal situation for him to go as far as possible, for practice, of course, when he could perform the sexual acts on Cho to the best of his pleasure giving abilities. Ron constantly mocked him for this incredibly immature way to handle luring Cho Change, but such was life. After the whole "Return of the Dark Lord" thing, Harry changed. Not to the shy, withdrawn Harry you saw towards the end of the fourth year, but to the "Feel bad for me, I'm an Orphan and Voldemort's after me. "Did I mention I was Quidditch captain and Dumbledore's favourite?" mentality. To be frank, the Harry Potter became the Harry Potter, the it thing...Harry's ego had caught up with him.  
  
Ron adjusted quite well, if you could call in an adjustment. He was already used to be the gloryless one next to Quidditch Star Evil Defeater Lightening Bolt Headed Harry Potter. Ron just gained more time for himself, more time for personal reflection while Harry fucked every girl he could possibly get his hands on. Ron had had a brief relationship towards the middle of December with a nice fourth year Ravenclaw named Christina. Brief being two days; Ron get merely disgusted after they kissed for the first time. "And it wasn't because she was a bad kisser or, anything, I just realised I wasn't...as attracted to her as I thought I was," Ron remembered telling Harry in defense of his now controversial sexuality after Harry had boasted about his last fuck. Harry just rolled his eyes in disgrace of his friend.  
  
And still, Harry remained number one in Ron's dodgy little heart. Why? Well, he forgot to mention this Christina chick was a beard. Major beard, too. Ron had been gay since end of fourth year, when he no longer jerked off to Fleur Delacour's image, but to Cedric Diggory's. This allowed Ron to accept himself, and to worry about Harry accepting him. But then Harry just didn't care about Ron...so, it was fine. Ron just wouldn't tell him. "Hey, Harry, I'm gay and in love with you!" Pff, the words sounded stupid. And Harry's reaction and his own humiliation discouraged him from saying anything to anyone.  
  
Ron was now done with his homework. Ron was doing surprisingly better in school. Being he had nothing better to do, he did most of his work all the time. Alone, of course. Hermione was too involved with her prefect to really talk to anyone, but she and Ron were still friendly.  
  
In fact, one time, Hermione made quite the valid observation.  
  
"You and Harry have become the opposite of what I expected," she'd said through pursed lips of frustration during revision of the Arithmancy. "He's the loud one and you're the quiet one. I would always imagine that you would want to become the popular one and him to be more reserved and humble. People change, though, I suppose," And as if she hadn't said anything important, any honest realization that left Ron contemplating human nature during most of his free time, she continued her revision.  
  
He shoved his books onto the floor with a loud thud and felt himself lean back onto his bed with a glance to Seamus' clock. Nine o' clock.  
  
"Not too early to go to bed, then..."  
  
And a pensive Ron drifted into an uneasy sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
A few hours later, Ron was woken up by Harry stumbling into the dorm, walking to his bed, which was adjacent to Ron's. Ron watched Harry in his stupor; he acted like and reeked of way too much butterbeer.  
  
"Been out drinking again?" Ron asked, knowing the answer. He felt it necessary to mock Harry, though, being his usual self, which had changed from sarcastic to downright cynical. Harry grunted a yes as he collapsed onto his bed.  
  
"You know, you should stop that. It's bad for you, and--"  
  
"I wasn't drinking, Ron," Harry interrupted, disgruntled. "Cho was, and she spilled her drink on me,"  
  
"Oh," said Ron, a big miffed that he couldn't nab at Harry for being a drinker like usual. "Lay Cho yet?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry, who was now undressing. "Last night,"  
  
"And you didn't tell me? I know you're Mister Popularity now, but at one point we were best friends, you know," Ron said bitterly.  
  
"Because I'm ashamed of myself for fucking her," replied Harry. "Happy, now? Mister Popularity is ashamed of himself,"  
  
Ron wasn't happy, but he didn't show it.  
  
"Yes,"  
  
"Good. Because I'm no longer Mister Popularity,"  
  
Ron sneered.  
  
"Giving up on your promiscuous ways and gaining some morals?"  
  
"Maybe," he said, removing his clothing until he was now in just his boxers. "Or maybe I realised how lonely I was,"  
  
Ron felt his temper rise at this, his volume rising to above the previous whisper, which the boys had kept to keep their dorm mates asleep.  
  
"You were lonely?" Ron felt himself laughing. "YOU were lonely?!"  
  
Ron and Harry felt their heads move suddenly in Neville's direction; he had begun to flail underneath his covers, saying a muffled "Nooo...tallk..nooooo..."  
  
Harry glared at Ron. "Shall we continue this argument elsewhere?"  
  
"Gladly," responded Ron quickly, following him out the door and to the now empty common room.  
  
Harry and Ron immediately felt themselves walk to what used to be their usual corner automatically, sitting down in two chairs across from each other. They were both filled with bewildered anger, fiery leers being exchanged.  
  
"Anyways," Ron said, interrupting the awkward silence. "You were whining to me about loneliness?"  
  
"Yes," glare. "Loneliness."  
  
"Proceed, then," Ron said, moving his hand in an obnoxious continuing motion.  
  
"Right," continued Harry. "Well, I was with Cho. Hooking up, if want to call it that. It was nice for the time being, I suppose. I just wanted her so bad, so badly...I wanted pleasure from her, that's all...just pleasure.  
  
"But you know girls. They always want something more. But I was attracted to her in a non-sexual way, and if I want a girlfriend, I need attraction on two levels. Cho fulfilled one of them, which she graciously provided. And then we had sex.  
  
"I thought this was going to be great. It's Cho Chang, I'm a sex expert, she's hot, and whatever. She was fine, I was fine. Overall, the sex was fine physically. Emotionally, I'm scarred.  
  
"Because it wasn't sexual attraction that wanted me to have sex with her anymore. It was that longing to be with someone. That...utmost desire for someone that goes beyond sex or friendship, but into the soul and spirit of them, their fate, just everything...I realized that I couldn't get that with anyone. I was with her for the hell of it. I told her to call everything off today. I'm just destined to be lonely, I guess."  
  
Harry was now near tears. Ron had taken heed, but not much. He felt himself smirk, staring at Harry with a huge grin. Harry furrowed a black brow.  
  
"This isn't funny, Ron,"  
  
"Never said it was,"  
  
"Well, it looks you're stopping yourself from laughing,"  
  
"I'm not," retorted Ron, regaining serious composure. "I just have come to a conclusion."  
  
"Oh really," said Harry. "Then what is it?"  
  
Ron stared at Harry for a few moments before resuming the grin.  
  
"You're gay, Harry,"  
  
Harry laughed. Ok, more like giggled, Ron noticed.  
  
"Gay?!" asked Harry rhetorically. "No, Ron, sorry,"  
  
"Hear me out, Harry," Ron pleaded. "Seriously, my point's more valid than you think,"  
  
With rolling green eyes, Harry sat back in his chair and let Ron go on with his ways.  
  
"I'm lonely too, Harry. For a while I couldn't think about anything but how much I wanted Fleur Delacour, remember that?"  
  
Harry nodded with boredom, wishing for him to continue on.  
  
"Anyways, I just wanted her sexually, you know, just a fuck, no strings attached. While you jerked off to Cho in the showers, it was all Fleur for me. But then that changed.  
  
"Fleur wasn't satisfying me anymore. I need something else. I needed someone that wouldn't just satisfy my fourteen-year-old hornyness. I need something that would make a mature relationship, you know, whatever you were going on about attraction on two levels and desire beyond just attraction. My first thought was to go for someone realistic: Hermione! But that lost its fun too. Then, it was off towards--"  
  
Ron was interrupted by the sound of someone walking down the stairs from the girl's section. Instinctively, Ron and Harry dashed to the portrait hole and out the exit as quick as possible, tapping away towards the north tower.  
  
But Hermione Granger had heard and seen Harry and Ron's conversation. Every single word of it. And she waited down in the common room, thinking to herself, and waiting for their return.  
  
* *  
  
Harry and Ron were racing towards nowhere, somewhere, anywhere, choosing the rarely Filch- infested North Tower. They sat down opposite each other again against the cool grey brick of the towers, catching their breath.  
  
"Next on my jerking off to list was Lavender. Then Parvati. I must have gone through every girl before I found my true calling. Cedric. Cedric Diggory.  
  
"Cedric was perfection. Good looking, smart, great at Quidditch, Prefect, everything I had ever wanted to be. He began to replace these girls. He was on his knees, just blowing me like he meant it. And I was in love, I knew it then. Not in lust, I didn't just want his body. I wanted him. I wanted his companionship. Wanted him in my arms. I wanted not to fuck him, but to make love to him.  
  
"So I dealt with it: I liked guys, not girls. Such is life. I still like guys. It's just who I am. Girls are fun if you just want ass. But if I want a relationship, I want a guy.  
  
"But, being this kind of 'feelings' aren't readily accepted at Hogwarts, I leave myself to solitude. That is loneliness: knowing that you could have someone that you truly desire, but knowing you don't because there's no one else that shares your desire,"  
  
Ron was now crying, tears flowing readily out of his brown eyes and flowing down his face, magnifying his freckly façade. Harry was also crying, though, or near it, as his green eyes rimmed with the salt-water droplets.  
  
"Now are you happy, Harry? The fag's out. Now you can go tell all of your new, popular friends and bring yourself high into this world by making fun of him like you do to all those other losers,"  
  
Harry's face buried in his hands with this harsh realization, now hysterically crying. He didn't realize how cruel he was being to Ron, who was his best friend, his best friend, his loyal best friend, who stuck up for him from evil, who would fight until death to defend him, and knew Ron still would fight for him.  
  
But the saddest thing Harry knew is that though he wouldn't admit, he would still fight until death for Ron. But now Harry didn't care. He would've cared a week ago, when his life was popularity and sex. But now the only thing he wanted in his life was Ron, and his new calling.  
  
Harry remembered him and Ron in the showers last year, the way they'd jerk off together, and share who they were lusting after that week. Ron would always say Fleur, Harry would always say Cho, even though Ron meant Cedric and Harry meant Oliver.  
  
Harry remembered himself feeling how Ron felt; he was in love, not lust. He wanted to make love to Oliver, Oliver wasn't just some stupid person he could fuck around with. But he'd never even thought that about Cho, or Hermione, or anyone else he would use to get his mind off the fact he was jacking off to guys image.  
  
"Bittersweet reality," Harry felt himself murmur. "It can be such a bitch,"  
  
Ron's red brow cocked.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
"I just wish you weren't so right, that's all,"  
  
Ron felt himself smile, like he just won the debate of a lifetime.  
  
"I wasn't always jerking off to Cedric, you know," Ron said to help Harry off his uncomfortable manner. "You entered there a few times, too,"  
  
In turn, that made Harry more uncomfortable. He remained painfully silent, obviously thinking about something, but his body was tense, his hands gripping tightly into his fists. He was shaking. Ron felt like dying for making Harry like this. But Harry just convulsed into hysterics again, hugging his knees. Ron walked over to him and placed a comforting arm around him in friendly way, but not too friendly, just a comforting one. Harry's tear-stained face nested into Ron's lanky chest. Ron held Harry lightly in his arms, patting his back as manly as quite possible.  
  
It must've been five minutes before Ron started to sing under his breath as Harry remained crying into Ron's chest.  
  
"I've found a long away back to sanity again, though I don't really know what I'm going to do when I get there, take a breath and hold on tight, and spin around one more time, and gracefully fall back to the arms of grace…  
  
"'Cause I'm hanging on every word you say, and even if you don't want to speak tonight, that's all right, all right with me, 'cause I want nothing more than to site outside Heaven's door and listen to you breathing, it's where I want to be…"  
  
Ron was now petting Harry's hair absentmindedly. Harry had stopped crying, soothed by Ron's touch and song. Harry recognized the song; they had heard it over the summer, when Ron had spent some time in Harry's room before they left for The Burrow. Ron had felt so touched by it, he remembered. It was provoking him, bringing him towards solitude, Harry remembered, because Ron was whining about whom he could sing it to.  
  
Harry couldn't be happier that it was him.  
  
Harry felt himself look into Ron's eyes, longing for him. This was that desire that he was talking about earlier, not sex, making love…he wanted to make love, not fuck…love.  
  
Harry's lips met Ron's, kissing them gently, lightly, lovingly. Ron took Harry's hands in his own, their fingers entwining.  
  
Both were perfectly content with their lips locked their together, but soon enough the hands untwined and they felt their hands grasped each others frames, pulling themselves toward each other, sharing warmth. Their tongues danced together in each other's mouths.  
  
Reluctantly, Ron finally pulled away, a forefinger going to stroke Harry's slender face. "More tomorrow, it's getting light out,"  
  
Harry felt himself get out of Ron's grasp to stare out at the beauty of the rising sun in the horizon as it lifted over the lake. Ron followed.  
  
They clasped hands and just watched it, each speechless and recognizing its symbolism. Both now knew what was it was like to be lost in someone so uncontrollably, so in tune with world, so innate to them.  
  
Realizing they had to sneak back to their dorms, they slowly took off, holding hands and leading themselves through the vast and ever changing Hogwarts castle. Twist, turn, twist, turn, drag, tug, drag, tug, THWAP. Harry had walked directly into a door.  
  
"Good one," chuckled Ron. Harry had suddenly become morose. "What's wrong?"  
  
Harry pushed open the door, hoping to reveal what he thought. And it did.  
  
"No…it couldn't be…it was destroyed!" Ron exclaimed,  
  
Ron and Harry, hand in hand, stared into the Mirror of Erised.  
  
"I wonder what my deepest desire is now," said Harry, as his life had changed dynamically in the past couple of hours.  
  
He let go of Ron's hand and stepped forward so he was a foot away from the mirror, staring into it.  
  
He waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
Three minutes had past until he recognized why he wasn't seeing anything, and it was then that he burst into tears for the fourth time in that evening.  
  
"What's wrong, Harry? What is it?" Ron gulped with worry.  
  
"I don't see anything, Ron," he said after a bit. "I see nothing. Because I already have what I desire,"  
  
Ron walked forward and placed his arms around Harry's waist from behind and they stared at their own reflection. They had found their desire: each other.  
  
* * *  
  
It was close to six in the morning when Harry and Ron finally arrived in the common room. They helped each other through the portrait hole and then quickly resumed their hand holding, until Hermione got out of a close chair and stared at them.  
  
For a moment she just stared, but then she grinned.  
  
"I know," she said, and she came closer to them. "I knew all along,"  
  
She hugged them, a smile that was so rare to Hermione played along her lips.  
  
Hermione then walked up to her dorm again, now feeling as her life was complete.  
  
But no one was quite as complete as Harry, or Ron, for that matter, as they climbed into Harry's bed, limbs tangled, and slept. 


End file.
